Hard to Find
by xo going nowhere
Summary: People always leave. Tried and true, it's the philosophy she's lived by. Imagine her surprise when she looks around and the only one left is the one she told to get the hell out.
1. Usually Sucky or Mean

To Maggie.

_I do believe you once said that only we're crazy enough for this. This is me, proving you absolutely right. So damn you, damn me, and damn our crazy passion for this couple. Love ya, girlie_

**Hard To Find**

_Prologue: Usually Something Sucky or Mean_

The song always took her back.

The time wasn't so long ago, but it might as well have been an entirely different lifetime. Sometimes it felt like it happened to someone other than Peyton Sawyer. But sometimes Peyton didn't even feel like she _was_ Peyton Sawyer. Peyton Sawyer could smile for the crowds; wave her pom-poms high as she squealed with delight, the cheering of the crowd and the screeching of rubber on highly polished wood prominent in the background. But Peyton would sit in her room, angry vinyl being scratched away at, blaring from the closet as she sat sketching out her day in her computer chair, her torment visualized in charcoal as she hid in plain view.

But the delicate strains of the violin still sent shivers down her spine, reminding her of times where the cheerleader and the human and the artist and the teenager all met, a blending of emotions that overwhelmed her. Entire months where she felt she was drowning, coupled with a deep desire to never breathe again.

She panted, her breath coming in short gasps as her bare chest heaved with exertion. _Just a little bit_, a voice from deep within would remind, as her pale skin glistened, her golden curls mussed and matted to her forehead. But none of that mattered now, not with him. Writhing above her, he would move quickly as her hands caressed his toned back. Feelings exploded in his light eyes, her fingers tugging through his dark locks, as he collapsed above her, spent now.

And she would continue to lie there, long after he had fallen asleep. His hand clutched hers loosely, their fingers intimately threaded together as he burrowed into the crook her neck. She would wait then, for a declaration she was certain would never come. Tortured artist Peyton was waiting for a love to fill her, to show her what she had always been missing. Cheerleader Peyton was thrilled to be wrapped around a basketball star. Teenager Peyton could almost feel the insecurities begin to rebuild, the walls that had crumbled restoring themselves so quickly she almost missed it.

_Almost_.

But Human Peyton waited just a little bit longer, waiting for him to say what they both knew. Waiting for a reason why he chose her of all people, to make her such a large part of his life. She was waiting for him to tell her how he felt, so she could reciprocate, and feel a little less dirty. Or maybe she was just waiting for him to get up so they could do it again, and she could feel a little less lonely. She could push the guilt off for a while, to shed that skin when she found it convenient. Peyton Sawyer was a girl of many different layers, but they were all in agreement on him. She wanted him, with every part of her, and she had for as long as she had gotten to know him. The _real_ him. Each layer cried out for him when he was so close, but so far away. She snuggled in closer to his side, the familiar scent of him surrounding her as she tried to lull herself to sleep.

Each night, the many parts of Peyton Sawyer would lay awake, waiting to be told that they were loved.

Waiting for words he could never say.

And then the song would end. The violin would swell out and away, leaving her alone and longing for its return. Long ago, she had stopped changing the song to this one. She found it was much better when it came of its own accord. Somewhere along the line, the song had _become_ him, and manipulating him was a game she never could play. And so she would wait as her player shuffled the music, secretly praying for this particular number, to wait for the haunting melodies to sweep her away again.

It had been so many months since then. It was even longer since he had truly belonged to her. For every time in her life, Peyton's made herself a soundtrack. She's got hundreds of mix tapes from the times of him and her, and sometimes she pops them in, just for old time's sake. She's got heartbreak and elation, first time and first break up. It makes sense, because they're all for her first love. And it's only been around eight months since then, and yet she's fallen in love twice after. Hell, he's gotten _married_. And both of them got clobbered. So sometimes she likes to hang out in her bedroom and think about those times when the worst way someone could hurt her was to spit cruel words with no feeling behind them.

_She was pissed. No, pissed didn't even describe it. It couldn't even **begin** to describe it. As she plucked her rare import C.D. from the grass near the River Court, his truck's exhaust fumes filled her lungs. The tires squealed as he got further and further away from her. She stomped her foot in agitation, yelling something about her records before stopping. How pathetic had she gotten? Her boyfriend just tossed her from his car and she was pissed that her music hit the ground? She had miles to walk before she was by her house. Not to mention, she looked like a complete hoe, standing there in a Tree Hill Ravens cheerleading uniform, which was arguably disheveled due to their previous activities. A faint blush crawled her up neck, settling somewhere around her cheeks. She felt the anger within her grow stronger. Only thoughts of him could arouse her when she was feeling so otherwise enraged. Hearing a ball bounce somewhere on the courts behind her, she knew without a doubt who she would find there. And if he was good for nothing else, Lucas Scott would always be a reliable ride home. _

No, no, no. She could live without memories of being stranded. She's been left alone too many times to count, and if she wanted memories of abandonment, she could draw on much more recent ones. She flips the C.D., knowing that better memories are attached.

_"It smells like sex in here," she remarked, trying to hold in the laughter at the horrified expression on Haley James's face. This was back when she was a brunette, with straight hair, a tutor with the last name James. Back when she could still stand her. Back when she still called Tree Hill home. On a runway onto feet to their left, stood an immaculately sculpted Nathan Scott in only a pair of basketball shorts, him having stripped off the jacket and warm ups that had previously clothed him. He flexed, hamming it up for the crowd. That was Nathan for you—milking the spotlight for all that its worth. She tried not to get jealous, but the expressions on just about everyone in the room (excluding Nathan's mother Deb, but including all her friends standing around her) could only be described in one way—hunger. Nathan Scott was as Nathan Scott always was: **hot**. And it was times like these where it was hard to remember that things between them were a thing of the past. _

_"Bet on Nathan!" her doe eyes were wide and pleading, and Peyton jolted from her thoughts._

_"What?" she asked incredulously. Honestly, out of all the people Haley wanted her boyfriend to spend the night with, it was the one he actually confirmed that he'd slept with? Peyton would never understand her friend's train of thought. Actually, she turned to her left to make a snippy comment about exactly that. That's where Brooke would usually be standing. This was when she remembered exactly **why** Brooke wasn't standing with her, or speaking to her for that matter, and suddenly hanging out with Nathan seemed like a very, very bad idea. Still, she couldn't resist the pleading tone in Haley's voice, and as her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend was the only friend she had at the moment, who was she to resist? _

_"I knew you still wanted me," he grinned at her, and she tuned out the rest of his sentence, preferring to give an exaggerated eye roll at his hubris. He hugged his girlfriend goodbye and they exchanged promises to see each other later. _

_"Alright, let's get this over with," he grumbled at her, beginning to walk off. She raised a pale eyebrow in his direction._

_"Funny. That's what he used to say before we'd have sex," Peyton quipped, watching the expression on her new friend's face fall with a suppressed laugh as she began to run, jumping on top of Tree Hill's star basketball player._

That night was the most fun she'd had in a long, long time. She was a little on edge for most of it, trying hard not to make all the same mistakes she'd made with Brooke and Lucas regarding Nathan and Haley, given all the double entendres in his speech that night. But honestly, she had missed this. She missed _Nathan_. They were close long before drama seeped in, and once upon a time, they used to have fun. There were nights at Wrightsville Beach, where it was just them and the stars, nights that she couldn't forget even if she wanted to. Peyton Sawyer's new goal was to not live in the past, especially when she wasn't even that same person who'd lived it. Still, she couldn't help wallowing in misery's memories every once in a while. She knew that she'd better get a move on if she wanted to make it through all her depressing mix CDs tonight… she still had the Lucas and Jake volumes to go, and there were multiple in each category. Peyton was someone who believed that it wasn't enough to be miserable, but your pain had to be exquisitely sound tracked. She did a damn good job. But even though she had so many to choose from, Peyton Sawyer always found herself selecting the soundtrack of Nathan Scott. She always found herself missing him.

* * *

_So I know what you're thinking... who is the person on the board with the least right to start a new story? Yes, that would be me. But I promise that all my stories will be updated more frequently now, as one of them is ending, and I've got a lot more time on my hands. But anyway, please review and let me know what you think, because this is **really** new territory for me._

_Thanks for reading!_

_x Sam_


	2. Two Steps Back, One Step Forward

_This entire story is for Maggie, but I just thought I'd say it again. Here you go, impatient one. _

**Hard to Find**

_Two Steps Back, One Step Forward _

Some days are better than others. Peyton Sawyer knows this better than anyone, and it's this same thing that causes her to hesitate at the threshold of the apartment. On the other side could wait one of two things. One could be a calm man, broken but content, playing the hand dealt to him. Or she could find an angry, bitter guy, raging like a man possessed. Either way, she would find her friend on the ledge he had been teetering on for the past few weeks. Pushing open the door with only the quickest of knocks, she sighed to herself.

_Well, it's one or the other_.

If a tornado had swept through Tree Hill and Peyton had somehow slept through it, the apartment of Nathan Scott would certainly prove it to her. The video game controllers were tangled on the floor. Beer cans were strewn all about. Clothing was tossed haphazardly around the room, including shirts on the kitchen counter and boxers hanging from the lamp shade. Anxiety began to gather in her stomach, wondering exactly how much she'd see when she finally saw her friend.

"Nate? Nathan, you here?" she called, mentally smacking herself in the head. Of course he was here. Who the hell else would be? Haley's been gone for months, and Lucas has finally stopped babysitting. Instead, they alternated checking up on him, trying to make it appear as casual as possible. She had first argued against this idea, knowing that though Nathan wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he would catch on that every third day, the same people would arrive at his doorstep. But Lucas refused to relent, and so their schedule took off.

"Yeah Peyt, I'm in my room," she heard his voice, slightly raised, call from the back room. A small smile crossed her face at his words. For the first few weeks, he had continued to refer to everything as _theirs_, and _ours_. It was their apartment, it was their bedroom, it was their marriage. But now half of _them_ was gone, and it was _his_ apartment, _his_ bedroom, and _his_ broken heart. It was sad, but strangely refreshing. A step in the right direction, anyway. Heading down the hall, she stepped carefully around his open overnight bag, still half-full, and shook her head sadly at the story it told.

_She found herself in a situation so similar to the one she found now. Clothes all over, luggage on the floor. But this time, Nathan Scott was hopping around in the midst of the madness, tugging on tube socks as he threw a t-shirt into his bag. _

_"Nate?" she questioned, and he finally stopped, as if just noticing her there. The smile she hadn't seen in weeks spread across his handsome face. The true, happy, million-watt smile. They had known each other since kindergarten, and she had seen this expression so many times since, but it warmed her heart to see it now after all this had happened. _

_"Hey Peyton, what's up?" he stilled, hastily doing up the zipper on the nearest black bag and tossing it onto the couch. There was a twinkle in his eye that seemed out of place in the apartment that reeked of emptiness, and she raised a pale eyebrow in the luggage's direction._

_"I thought maybe you'd want to get some pizza, or whatever. Maybe hang out with Jake and Jenny?" she shifted, realizing after the words had left her mouth exactly how lame they sounded. Her love for Jake was seeping in through her brain again, infecting her thoughts and revealing itself through her words. God, she couldn't even comfort a friend without thoughts of him sitting at home, just a few blocks away. Nathan didn't seem offended or turned off by this at all, an amused smile forming._

_"Very appealing, but I'm going to have to pass."_

_"Oh, come on Nate! We can hang out with Brooke and Lucas. Or, I could hang out with Brooke, and you could hang out with Lucas. Or you could hang out with Brooke, I guess. I'm not sure if you'd ever really want to do that, but there's always that possibility—" Peyton rambled on, ways to get him out of the house. She flinched. With the way she was babbling on, she was even reminding herself of Haley, and she knew how easily Nathan went off lately. _

_"I can't just hang out with you?" he teased good-naturedly. _

_"That was option E," she grinned. _

_"Well, you should've started off with that fine offer. Maybe when I get back, okay Peyt?" he kneeled in front of the couch, tying his shoes. _

_"Oka—hey, wait, where are you going?" she plopped down onto the couch, forcing him to face her. _

_"Atlanta," he said nonchalantly, looking up and meeting her eyes while his fingers continued to work at the laces of his shoes, so used to the movements that he no longer needed to look to be sure of himself. Much of Nathan was like that. It was one of the things most people admired about him, once they got to know him. It could come off as arrogance, but once Nathan knew what he was supposed to be doing, he never second guessed himself. He believed in himself, and so he succeeded. As a note Brooke had cruelly and drunkenly passed around once said, "Believing you'll do well is half the battle". _

_"And why is that?" Peyton pried. _

_"Because I'm going to get Haley," said Nathan, and she recognized the new tone of his voice as that of sheer determination. That explained the smile, she knew. It was at this moment when she realized that nothing she could say or do would make a difference. An ominous feeling began to grow within her, and she could practically **feel** her heart sinking. Instead, she pasted on an encouraging smile. _

_"Then go get her Nate. But hurry back, okay? I like this whole friendship thing everybody's been doing lately," she explained lamely, but honestly. If Brooke and Lucas and Nathan and Peyton, two of Tree Hill High's most infamous couples, both of which had gone down in flames, could find themselves the best of friends, anything was possible. Peyton herself was currently waiting on an end to world hunger, but it appeared that Nathan was reaching for something less far-fetched. She just hoped it wasn't something equally hard to attain._

_"Aww, look at Peyton Sawyer getting all sentimental," he laughed, and she slapped his arm playfully. _

_"Do not mock my affections," she said crisply, in a British accent that the blonde made thoroughly obnoxious. _

_He laughed again, louder this time, as he tackled her backwards. She couldn't remember the last time they had done this, but she was enjoying having back Nathan instead of pod-Nathan, so she certainly wouldn't complain. His hard chest was pressed firmly against her much softer frame, and she could hear him inhale the scent of her hair. _

_"I'll be back before you know it," he whispered into her ear. "And then everything can be normal again." _

_Part of her wanted to whisper that at age seventeen, having two of your also-seventeen year old best friends married was not normal, even when one **wasn't** running off to become a rock star. But she couldn't bear to burst the happy little bubble of hope that had sprung up and found herself conjuring up another fake smile._

_"I'll try not to miss you too much," she scoffed, exaggerating a roll of her large hazel eyes for effect. _

_"Please, we both know that's not possible," he smirked, brushing a light kiss against her forehead. She wrapped her arms more tightly around his back, leaving zero space between them. That feeling within told her that this was the last time she would see Nathan Scott whole in a very long time. She couldn't help but think that the lashing out they had seen prior would be nothing compared to the shell he would become if all didn't go exactly as he planned. She held onto this Nathan, the one she had known all her life, because she didn't know the next time she'd be able to. She only let go when she felt him shift above her, and remembered how awkward their position was. He was virtually pinning her to the couch. She unwound her arms, pulling them back to her and pushing him backwards slightly. _

_"Well, now that we've established I'm going to miss you, you can get off of me, because I sort of can't breathe." _

Taking two steps back, she angrily kicked the bag. A large portion of her was hoping that some mysterious voodoo would kick in, and Haley James (Scott?) could feel exactly what was happening to the baggage. Then again, if that was true, she'd probably have to drag it outside and run it over a few times. Peyton could remember clearly what had happened the day he left, and she could also remember exactly what happened the night he came back.

_"Sorry," he croaked from the doorway. "I forgot to ring the bell." _

_Acting casual, as if she had not just spent the last ten minutes sitting completely rigidly in her bed while hearing strange shuffling noises downstairs, Peyton nodded._

_"No, it's cool. What's up?" she raked her fingers through her long blonde curls. Suddenly it dawned on her who she was talking to. "NATHAN! Oh my God, when did you get back? Why didn't you call me, asshole? What are you doing, sit down, how's Georgia, how's Haley, how's everything? Tell me everything. But not if it gets sexual, because that'd be a bit of an over share." _

_Peyton was starting to think she had picked up on Brooke's "stupid quotient" when stressed. She was tired and hysterical and happy and delirious, but even in the darkness of her bedroom, she could see his eyes darken, and knew a major mistake had been made. Yes, she was most certainly going back to being Stoic Peyton._

_"I'm not sure Peyton, I'm not really privy to the details of Haley and Chris's sex life," he answered, and his cold words hung in the air. She swore she didn't breathe for the longest time, and finally the air forced its way out of her lungs, her disbelieving sigh puncturing the silence. He didn't look at her, but his gaze seemed to be intently upon her infamous 'People Always Leave'. Following it more closely, she could see that it wasn't that photo, which had summed up so much of the angst in her life, but the one beside it that he was staring at. _

_He had given it back to her when she was feeling especially down, and she wondered vaguely why they seemed to be on such a teeter-totter lately. If he was up, she was down. If he was down, she was up. Right now was definitely the latter, but even thoughts of Jake and Jenny waiting for her in the morning could warm her heart right now. She had never seen such visible devastation. It was as if he had become carnage right before her eyes, victim of his own wife and his own heart. _

"_Sometimes They Come Back". It hung in the place of honor on her walls, her new philosophy as of lately. She couldn't even muster up outrage as he strode across the room, tore it from the walls, and the drawing became two half drawings, then four quarter drawings, and then a million little pieces, right before her eyes. _

_Instead, she held out her arms, and he came towards her. He dropped beside her onto the bed, but ignored the hug waiting to be given. She understood completely, knowing exactly what it was like to try and hold it together and having the last thing you needed be tears, which is exactly what would come if you accepted an embrace. _

_"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly, the steady rhythm of their combined breathing doing nothing to lull her back to sleep. Her heart raced, her head pounded, she could feel her blood pulsing through her body. She had never been this angry in her entire life. They both lay on their backs, side by side, with two or three inches in between. It was awkward, almost, as if they were siblings stuck on a hotel bed instead of the former lovers they were. Then again, if they lay like lovers did, it wouldn't really bode well for her relationship with Jake, but that was beside the point._

_"Is there really anything left to say?"_

_"Can you at least tell me what happened?" she asked, but amended quickly. "That way I know the extent of hatred I'm supposed to feel." Somewhere in her heart, she was just happy Nathan knew that he could come to her. All through their dating years, she had huffed and puffed and changed the subject when he tried to open up about his parents. She regretted that now, now that she could truly see what a number Dan Scott had done on his baby boy. But even that was nothing compared to what had happened now. Yet she knew that pushing him was getting them nowhere. _

_Instead of the small chuckle she had been expecting, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards a fraction of a centimeter. If she hadn't been studying his face intently, she would've missed the change of his expression completely. Moments passed in this tense fashion. _

_"Is there really anything left to say?" he repeated. "She left. She left with him even though I told her that it would be over if she did. She left anyway. And she left the bracelet. Nobody else really gets what that bracelet means. Damnit, she may as well have left her ring. It's not like she's going to get much use out of it anyway. And then I followed her to fucking Atlanta, and she told me what everyone else had told us. She loved me, we were too young, we made a mistake. Or maybe that wasn't this time, but she said it once, I think. And then she went on stage. That's all she said. So I left."_

_It was almost a monotone, the way he spoke. He had been drained of emotions, and was merely telling the story as if he was an objective narrator. She wondered if he even knew she was there, because he seemed to be talking to himself in the darkness. _

_"She looked really beautiful. A lot blonder than before, I think, but I've always had a thing for blondes," he ploughed on, missing the way Peyton's hand flew subconsciously to her hair, the slight blush staining her cheeks. "But she wasn't Haley. Not the Haley I married. So I didn't hang around after the show. I just couldn't believe that I offered to come with her, or to wait for her, or…just, anything really, and she just left to go on stage. I didn't want to talk after the show, I wanted to talk then. And if she couldn't give me that, I didn't want to give her this. But I was driving home, and Taylor called."_

_She wasn't sure who 'Taylor' was, but she didn't really like where this story was going. _

_"And so I stopped there on my way home. She was working at some bar in Mississippi, and I took a bit of a detour after she called. Remember that time you made me watch Coyote Ugly? It was sort of like that. And during dance time, I ended up getting pulled onto the bar, and was pretty much surrounded by hot girls in heat. And I felt like the old me again, like how I was before Haley. And I wanted to fuck Taylor again. We actually even went upstairs, and she totally would've, but I tried to kiss her, and I just **couldn't.** And the old me would have, I know that. I wish I did. I just feel… I don't know, I feel so alone Peyt." _

_Jolted a little at the realization that he was actually talking to her and not just thinking aloud, she tried to find her way through the fog of her own thoughts. That was probably the most consecutive words Nathan Scott had spoken in his entire life. So he had a past with this Taylor girl? Part of her wanted to ask exactly how ancient this history was, but realized that sounded a little too jealous girlfriend-y. His words, a jumble in her mind, became more and more clear until they were almost crystal. She could almost visualize them that way, crystals falling to the ground, its shattered pieces cutting everyone around. _

_She reached out for his hand and was surprised when he let her hold on. Their fingers laced together out of old habits that had yet to die hard. It was as if this meager link had provided all the contact needed. She felt like his feelings were transferring into her. As the tale of Nathan and Haley came fully out, the quiet things that no one ever knows were revealed, and she had all new feelings on the subject. Actually, her feelings seemed to drain completely, her anger evaporating completely along with the golden shield she seemed to have over her since Jake's return. In its place, there was nothing. She felt hollow and empty, a searing kind of pain so strong that she trembled to think what Nathan himself could be feeling. _

_She had been right, before. It would be a long time before Nathan Scott could be held. _

She wasn't really sure what she was doing here now. After all, if she was down, Nathan would be up, in accordance with their sick see-saw. She was supposed to be cheering him up, but ever since Jake had asked her not to come see him anymore, she had been the one in need of some serious cheering. Not even Brooke, nicknamed for the very same emotion, could get the job done. A mess was in no position to help a mess. She just hoped that the thought would count.

Nathan Scott lay sprawled across his bed. He tossed a basketball in the air, his clear blue eyes following the motion. Up. Down. Up. Down. She tore her eyes away from the same, and mustered up a weary smile.

"Hey, how you doin'?" she asked, as she did every single time she had walked in through his doors lately.

"What are you doing here, Peyt?" he asked, eyes wandering over to a calendar on the wall. It was surprisingly up to date. She wondered how someone who had been as screwed up lately as Nathan had been, who couldn't keep track of his own food or clothing, could remember to keep the calendar correct. Then she thought that it was probably to be keenly aware of just how long Haley had been gone, and she reached levels of sympathy she didn't even realize she was capable of. "Isn't it Brooke's day?"

She squirmed guiltily. She knew he would catch onto their system. It really was "Brooke's day", and she wasn't sure how she had ended up at the apartment. Yet here she was.

He didn't sound bitter, which was good. There was maybe even a joking undertone in there, but it wasn't as obvious as it would be some days. She couldn't really determine if this was a good day or a bad day, but at least he hadn't hurled the ball at her as she'd walked in the door. She'd heard whispers that the same thing had happened to Lucas or Dan on a few occasions.

"There's ice cream in the fridge. I think we should just hang around today. Maybe we can talk?" he suggested, the basketball ceasing the motion that seemed endless. His eyes met hers, blue on hazel, and hers almost teared up. This was Nathan's way of saying that he knew what was going on, and wanted to be there for her. He had never been incredibly good with words. He was more a man of action. She appreciated the gesture more than he could ever know.

"It better be fudge swirl," she bestowed a watery smile upon him, knowing Haley's favorite had been butter pecan, God knows why, and that another bullet had been successfully dodged. She found her weapon of choice waiting for her in the freezer, grabbed two spoons, and bounded down the hallway. She slowed just a little bit, finally realizing what was off about the apartment. It had been thoroughly de-wifed. All traces that a woman had ever lived there were gone now, except for a pink paint splattered portrait that she herself had done, but Nathan had… improved? Sighing, she shook her head and continued into his bedroom. But when they lay down this time, her leg crossed over his, as they watched old Jerry Springer's, talking quietly and relishing the fact that there really _were_ people more screwed up than they were.

* * *

_Thanks SO MUCH to everybody who reviewed. Feedback is always appreciated, as I'm fumbling blindly with this story. So please please please let me know what you think. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_xo Sam_


	3. Isn't It Ironic?

_This chapter's a bit fluffy, because-- well, because the rest of the story is **not**. Enjoy!_

_For Maggie, as always. Nobody else enjoys my lunacy like you do._

**Hard to Find**

_Isn't It Ironic?_

"No, you know what this is?" she mumbled distraughtly, and she knew just how pathetic she must look. Raccoon eyes didn't even begin to describe the muddy rivers of black flowing from the lashes of her eyes down the curve of her cheeks. Her blonde curls, which usually sprung so freely, were tied into some sort of messy knot at the top of her head. Her wide hazel eyes were rimmed with red, blood streaking through, interrupting the whites. She was all cried out now though, and so her thin body wracked with dry sobs. It was not the usual picture of perfection Peyton Sawyer displayed, but Nathan Scott looked completely unfazed.

"What's this?" he asked, his broad shoulder balancing him against the doorframe. For one of the only times in his life, she thought, he didn't sound cocky or mocking. Rather, it seemed he actually gave a damn about what she was about to say. A wry smile sprung to her full lips, along with the words that if that had been the case more often when they were dating, they'd be in much better shape. Instead, the smile dripped slowly off, as the rest of her emotions flooded back in. It was pouring rain, and she was standing outside her apartment, and only as the splattering moisture darkened his gray shirt did she notice.

"_Ironic_. That's what this is," Peyton tried another smile, but failed miserably. Shoving him unceremoniously backwards, out of the rain, she ignored the filthy look his old neighbor shot them. Mrs. Merriweather, a woman who had probably been Tree Hill High's resident "hot chick" back in her time, was now a silver haired woman who was never without her curlers. She resided in apartment 9, two doors down from the Scott residence, and though her looks had undoubtedly faded, her thirst for gossip hadn't. It wasn't the first time Peyton had come face to face with Nathan's nosy neighbor, but she was grateful that this altercation was at least brief.

"_Nate!" she called helplessly, her thin arms bogged down by the weight of her bags. She was almost at the apartment, but she swore her fingers were about to snap off, and she couldn't make it a step further. _

"_Nathan!" she called, a bit more angrily. He was expecting her over. Why wasn't he waiting by the door? He used to tease her mercilessly about her "chicken arms", but it had never been a major factor in the Peyton Sawyer package, because she'd always have a big, strong man by her side to do the heavy lifting. He of all people should know that she couldn't carry her own shit, plus the stuff he'd asked her to pick up. Peyton had generously offered to get whatever he needed, as Nathan was still recovering from the accident, and watching him try to move about without indicating weakness was almost as painful an experience for her as it was for him. As so, this was how the skinny as a stick cheerleader found herself with arms full of laundry, groceries, and random video games that freshmen, junior varsity and varsity players alike had been eager to give the Ravens superstar. Inwardly, she'd rolled her eyes at how pathetic it was that they were playing up his time of need to climb the ever-shifting social ladder. Outwardly, she'd smiled, and thanked them for their concern. She promised Nathan would get them, and that she was sure he would appreciate them, leaving Brooke to cackle in the shadows at the front she'd put up. _

"_NATHAN SCOTT! GET THE HELL OUT HERE BEFORE I COME IN AFTER YOU!" she dropped the bags at the top of the stairs, whirling around with her hands on her shapely hips. Anger flared in her eyes. The least he could do, now that she'd become his nanny, was to help her move some stuff that all belonged to him. Jerk._

_A door flew open, and she smiled gratefully, before meeting the grim eyes of an elderly woman._

"_I'm sorry, I must've miscounted the apartment numbers," Peyton said, embarrassment evident. _

"_You're looking for the Scott boy, I presume?" she eyed the bags distastefully, and Peyton felt herself stand up straighter. She wasn't sure exactly when her urges to protect Nathan at all costs had kicked in, but she felt them strongly from time to time._

"_Yes, I am looking for Nathan. I'm his friend Peyton," she extended her thin wrist, attempting to insert some civility to the unreasonably hostile conversation._

"_I'm sure you are. I'm his neighbor, Mona Merriweather," her wrinkled hand met Peyton's own for the briefest of moments, leaving the faint impression of contact, but the blonde couldn't be sure. She bit down on her lip, stifling her lip. She and Brooke, at the tender age of 12, had smacked Mona towards the top of the list of names they wouldn't wish on anyone. This lady might just be grumpy enough to deserve it. _

"_It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Merriweather. Excuse me," Peyton moved slightly to the left, edging towards Nate's apartment. The way the elderly woman was eyeing her was giving her the major creeps. It was as if she was sizing her up, reaching a verdict before fair judgment could even begin._

"_I know what you two are doing. It's wrong, you know," she called, and Peyton ceased, turning slowly. _

"_It's wrong to help out a friend in a time of need?" the blonde questioned caustically, and the woman merely smirked in response._

"_The way we're all sure you're **helping** him, if that's what you kids call it these days? Yes, because they call it "adultery". It's in the Bible. Check it out. I know he's good looking, but honestly, are you that desperate that you'd go after a married man?" she spat scathingly, and Peyton's eyebrows flew high enough up to nearly disappear beneath her hair. Was this old woman accusing her of—?_

"_Peyt, I was wondering where you were," Nathan approached with a smile, easily lifting the bag she had struggled for a good half hour with. Nodding at Mrs. Merriweather, his neighbor shot the both of them a disapproving glare before turning away. Making a dirty gesture with his free hand, Peyton laughed and snatched up his dry cleaning._

"_So, what's up?" he asked, as if the interaction had never happened._

"_Oh, nothing really. Brooke's parents won't let her move in with me, Jenny's sick again, and your neighbor thinks I'm fucking you," she breezed back into the kitchen, leaving the bedroom door open after hanging up his clothing. Some might say she was a bit overbearing, babying him a bit too much, but sometimes it felt good to have somebody to take care of. _

"_She's a few months too late on that one," he chuckled, and a betraying blush spread across her milky white skin._

"_Nathan!" _

"_Are you denying it?" he laughed, arching an eyebrow in her direction as he put cans in the cupboard. _

"_I believe we rehashed this once before. Remember, boy toy? Now that your ego's been sufficiently stroked, we can move on and never speak of it again."_

"_Sure. Oh, awesome! More video games?" he dug eagerly through the bags they'd brought it. His face lit up with childlike glee as he came upon the presents high schoolers had bestowed upon him._

"_Yep. I swear, I'm like your mail holding office. It's getting ridiculous," she blew out a small laugh as she put popcorn in the microwave. This had been an easy routine for them to settle into. She would come over, they would have a minor verbal sparring, then they'd settle down with snacks. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they wouldn't. It was just their nature, but it flowed naturally between them. They wouldn't force conversation if there was nothing to say, but they wouldn't silence themselves if there was. _

"_So, your neighbors really think you're screwing around, huh?" she asked, and was surprised when he laughed._

"_Oh, yeah, totally. You should've heard what they had to say when you and Brooke stopped by." _

_A gagging noise tore its way through her, and she smacked at his arm._

"_Nate! Gross!"_

"_Hey, don't look at me," he tossed his hands up, an amused grin flitting across his handsome face. "I'm not the one formulating kinky threesome fantasies. That would be apartments 9, 13, 14, and… 17, if I'm not mistaken."_

"_I'm too skeeved for words right now," Peyton's mouth opened and closed a few times before coming out with that. "Wait… what do they say when Luke and Tim come too?"_

_A look of utmost disgust crossed his face, and she had to stifle her laughter. Peyton could almost see the bile rising in his throat, before he swallowed hard. "That, I don't even want to contemplate."_

"Your neighbor still thinks I'm your whore?" she sniffled as he tossed her a towel. Nathan knew how Peyton was. He would give her a few minutes to come clean with whatever needed to be said, but that was as much time as she could be allotted. Peyton Sawyer was someone who desperately needed to talk about what she felt—and someone who wanted to bottle it up just as much. While they had been dating, he hadn't really cared much. At one point, their relationship was good. It was _really_ good. But then they'd begun having sex, and they started to like hooking up a lot more than they liked each other. Now that they actually had conversations, it was nice to hang out again.

Still, Nathan could read her in a rare way. If she took longer than the minutes he gave her, he would just force it out of her. The key to their relationship was that they were equals. If he wanted to be an ass, then fine, she would be a bitch. Either way, they could take each other on, and sometimes it was really nice to have somebody playing on the same level as you.

"Of course she does. You should be flattered. Who wouldn't want to be my whore?" he jested, and she laughed openly. A grin spread across his features. Mission accomplished.

"Oh, just about anybody that actually knows you," she teased, and he smirked at her, clearly signaling that she was wrong.

"So, what brings you sobbing to my humble abode?" he asked sardonically, and her grin slid slowly away. She cast a quick, fearful glance at the front door.

"Are you planning on running?" he asked curiously, almost amused by the notion.

"Of course not," she made a face at him.

"Good. 'Cause I'd catch you," he pointed out unnecessarily. As if it wasn't clear to all who the athlete in this friendship was.

"Little cocky there, buddy?"

"You of all people know I have reason to be." He pulled out the Scott Smirk. Though all the men used it, nobody worked it quite as well as Nathan did.

"Dude, _enough_ with the innuendo!" she tried to sound angry, but laughter broke her halfway through. "I get enough of that from Brooke!"

"Really? Brooke's making passes at you? Now _this_ I would like to hear," Nathan paused his video game and turned to face her. He propped his strong chin upon his hand, looking eager and attentive.

"Uh. I didn't know I'd be dealing with horn dog Nathan when I came over today," Peyton made to get off the couch when his muscular arm linked around her thin waist, tugging her back onto the couch beside him.

"Please, like that wasn't what you were hoping for," he winked playfully at her, but resumed his game. "Anyway, what's going on Peyt? It's obvious that you're upset."

For a moment, he thought she really wasn't going to tell him. Her pearly teeth came out to chew anxiously on her lower lip, and her eyes flitted to and from the door again. But she continued, and he let out a deep breath. "It's just… I've been getting these really creepy messages, and—"

"Creepy? Creepy like how?" the game found itself paused again, as his eyes flew to hers. The blue was a fiery one now, anger and concern radiating off him. The concern he felt for her, how he was just as protective of her as she was of him now, was still somewhat shocking to her now. After all this time, after everything they'd been through, this was the stage them found themselves at. She could tell instantly that he thought it was something perverted, and felt guilty for his earlier comments. It was the last thing she wanted, really, because that was just Nathan. That was Nathan Scott, when he wasn't pod-Nathan or driving-into-walls-Nathan.

"No, not like how you're thinking. They're just really weird, almost like somebody's watching me," she continued awkwardly, and his stare turned a little blank.

"You mean on your webcam?"

"No. I've had that covered for a little while, but they're just… the messages keep coming. I guess it's kind of stupid, but I really didn't want to be alone right now," her hazel eyes were downcast, embarrassed still at showing vulnerability. His arm came around her shoulders, squeezing affectionately before pulling her a little closer to him.

"No, it's cool Peyt. You have every right to be freaked out. You should just stay here," he nodded firmly, and her eyes flew up to meet his.

"Stay _here_?"

"Uh huh."

"You have to be kidding me."

"No, why?" he frowned slightly.

"Spending the entire night here? Do you have any idea what your neighbors would say?"

"Hey, maybe he's about to marry her too?" he joked, but his tone came out a little more bitter than he'd intended. "Come on Peyton, don't be ridiculous. I don't care what they think, and you shouldn't either. You shouldn't be alone when you're scared, especially not when I'm alone too. It's inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone," he quoted.

"That's very wise of you, Mr. Scott," she snuggled a little closer to his warmth, trying to rid herself of the chill the rain had provided her with.

"Why thank you, Miss Sawyer," he laughed. A few moments passed in easy silence, while his curiosity ate at him. "Hey Peyton? What's ironic?"

"Oh. Heh," she laughed awkwardly, squirming just a bit. "Well, now I run to you when I'm crying. You used to be the one that made me cry."

"Really?" his dark eyebrows rose in question.

"Yes really," she smacked at the arm draped over her. "What did you think?"

"I don't know. I just figured you listened to some sucky music for a while, then got over it."

"The only one who listens to sucky music here is _you_ mister!" she jabbed her finger into his chest, her eyes widening for just a second at the muscle she had found there. She tried to act as if it hadn't happen, but the arrogant smirk let her know she had definitely been caught.

"Like you didn't already know. That's totally why you come here when you're scared."

"Ah yes. Big buff Nathan will save the day, yet again," she scoffed, and felt his chest vibrate beneath her head, indicating his laughter.

"Well, I'm saving _this_ one," he pointed out, and she looked at the raging storm outside. Thoughts of "WatchMeWatchYou", whatever kind of screen name that was, and the creepy messages she'd been sent swirled in her head, and she shivered almost imperceptibly. For the first time, it seemed, she could see the silver lining in all the tragedy surrounding them. Sure, it had sucked, and it hurt more than words could express… but it gave her friend back, something she doubted could ever happen with the way things had once been. For the first time in a long time, she felt _safe_ from the storm, and not just the literal one.

"My hero," she curled in, feeling his laughter and letting out a smile of her own.

Strangely enough though—she'd meant it.

* * *

_So thank you guys **so much** for your reviews for the last two chapters. Please keep 'em coming! Lol_

_Thanks for reading_

_x Sam_


	4. Still Joined

Hard to Find

_Still Joined _

It's the first time in weeks where she's slept the whole night through, and when she awakens, she's not exactly sure what to expect. Has she drunken herself to sleep, yet again? Or will there be a stranger wrapped around her, because she's certain that someone is there, and equally certain that it's not Jake. The torso pressed against her back is more sculpted, she grudgingly admits. She can feel the muscles bulging unassumingly against the bones of her back, the cuts clearly defined. Swirls of lust begin in the pits of her stomach. Her heart screams at it, (_BETRAYAL!)_, but it has little to no affect. But more surprisingly, she can feel this all through two layers of cotton, and it's then that her hazel eyes open wide.

The room is vaguely familiar, but too empty to be sure. The walls are an obscure, off-white color, with absolutely nothing to decorate them. There's wooden furniture, a dresser and a night table, and the blanket tossed over her is thoroughly nondescript. There is nothing to indict that this is a home more than a hotel room, and for a minute, she wonders if that's exactly where she's ended up. The slight craters in the mattress seem to indicate otherwise, and it slowly dawns on her that she knows _exactly_ where she is. And she knows exactly why it doesn't feel like a home anymore.

The Scotts'.

Exactly when they'd been relocated, she wasn't sure. There had been a loud argument over which movie to watch, ending in a compromise when she realized that watching romantic comedies with a man who's wife had just left him probably wasn't the best idea anyway, especially while nursing a broken heart of her own. Internally, she's been keeping time. Jake's been gone, in search of his daughter, for fourteen days, six hours, and twelve minutes. She tries not to though, because as much faith as she'd once had in him coming back to Tree Hill, she has equal faith now that he'll never return to her again.

She probably fell asleep during the movie, while he was hogging the couch, and he thought that they'd both be more comfortable in here, she thought, trying to ration out a chain of events that would've led her to Nathan Scott's bed. The lack of alcohol and addition of clothing rule out the potential of being lured there, and for that she is grateful. She wouldn't doubt it in many other instances, because while he wasn't exactly famed for his sentimental ways, Nate was widely renowned as being sexy as hell. It might not even be so bad, she mused lazily, because while she'd cared more about Jake than any boy she had ever met, nobody quite matched up to her first in the sack.

_Whoa_. Her eyes widened in shock. Where did that come from?

Peyton Sawyer is in love with, and trying to get over, Jake Jagelski, who is in love with and trying to get over her. The curly blonde does not think of any guys in the same way, and he was the best she'd ever had.

Now, all she has to do is repeat it silently a few times over. Then maybe she'd start to believe it.

"I hate myself," she groans softly, and realizes afterwards that she'd said it aloud.

"It's really not your fault that creeps occupy the internet, Peyton," the chest cushioning her head rumbles with his words. Peyton jumped about a million feet into the air, and locked her eyes upon the light blue ones, twinkling at her in amusement. She most definitely hadn't realized he was awake. She could feel herself flush, thankful that she hadn't said _all_ of her thoughts out loud. That would probably give him warrant to tease her for the rest of their lives, and put just a _teeny_ bit of strain on their newly reinforced friendship. They were bonded by their loses, and by the bruises on their hearts now. Besides, she didn't really mean it anyway.

At least, she doesn't think she did.

"I know I'm hot, but there's no reason to stare," he teased, wiggling his fingers only inches from her face. Resisting the childish urge to bite him, as she would if it were Brooke in his position, she rolled her eyes and sat up.

They could banter in the way that only Nathan and Peyton could, but there was something eerie hanging in the air. This was an apartment, not a home, and it had been that way ever since _she_ left. He had been different too, a little emptier, and she could sympathize more than anyone. Lucas and Brooke had both lost a best friend when she had gone away, but so had Peyton, and Nathan had lost so much more. Lucas and Brooke needed only to open their eyes and see what they were both skirting around, and they could be happy, with or without everybody's favorite tutor. Nathan and Peyton were harder to patch up. Something weird swirls around the room nonetheless, and it takes her a moment to figure it out. There aren't two depressions in the bed, but a larger than average one in the middle. She realizes, with a romantic sigh that strangles itself long before it's released, that they had never slept on different sides of the bed, but entangled together in the center. They had slept like she and Jake had slept, once they realized that the love had gone both ways. But it was different. They had realized what they had long ago, and vowed to make it last forever. They had vowed to never be apart. Everyone in Tree Hill, and those who had seen press coverage of an accident in which a seventeen year old slammed into a concrete barrier at 200 miles an hour, could see exactly how that had turned out. The only thing of "them" that had remained in the apartment was a sunken portion of a bed that used to be theirs.

And right now, Peyton Sawyer was lying in the ghost of Haley James Scott.

She wonders for a second if Haley had ever felt this way. After all, Peyton _had_ had the delectable Mr. Scott first. It's kind of stupid question, seeing as she knows the answer. Haley compared herself to Peyton almost every day of her relationship with Nathan, until they finally tied the knot after the first playoff game. Sometimes even after then. Peyton can't help that she gets a twisted sense of satisfaction that Haley lived with the unease that the blonde is stewing in right now. Back then, she had felt guilty sometimes about being a shadow on a relationship so beautiful. Now, she knows that if she'd realized what the girl she'd considered a close friend was capable of, and would very well do, she would've gone out of her way to make it more awkward.

It's probably not normal to want to set a mattress on fire, but she does. She wants her entire life free of Haley, whether she's a James or a Scott or a fucking Keller. She's sick of people leaving, and she's sick of people hurting, and the two people lying too close on the mattress of victims of exactly that. Peyton's not so needy that she's desolate that Haley's gone. But Nathan is, and Peyton realizes now that he's probably the most understanding friend she's got. His pain is now her pain; she's just lacking the crutches and medical bills to prove it.

"You're kind of my best friend. Isn't that weird?" he blows out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, and she wonders if he can read minds after all.

"A little. But it kind of makes sense," she nodded slowly.

"How do you figure?" he quirked his dark eyebrow at her. Sometimes he really, _really_ reminded her of Brooke. They were very similar, in theory. Dark, good-looking, rich, cocky. Their parents were noticeably absent in all the ways that counted, and overbearing in the areas they wished they would avoid. In their younger years, both had left a trail of broken hearts wherever they had gone. Nathan was intense though, while Brooke was breezy. In a way, both were defensive mechanisms—he needed it because of how hard his father rode him, and she needed hers because her parents barely knew she was alive, and both had to pretend not to care. They were actually even more similar than she'd thought previously, and while some at their school had speculated that a Nathan/Brooke hook up would be the hottest thing since…since, well, anything, both had been a bit repulsed by the idea. They sincerely cared about each other, but they bitched like brother and sister. Her eyes opened a little wider. Knowing Dan Scott, that wasn't a possibility she could rule out.

"I guess we can only hurt each other so much before we start being there when the other one does, right?" she questioned, obviously rhetorically, but he nodded slightly, deeply in thought.

"You know, I am sorry for being a dick."

"But not for having one," she added knowingly.

"Obviously," he grinned, making her laugh. "No, but seriously, I should've treated you a lot better, and I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Peyton said softly, and watched the relief flood into his eyes. Had he seriously still been carrying that around with him? "And you can _start_ making it up to me by making breakfast."

"You want me to burn down the complex as penance?" he gasped, his eyes wide with mock-terror.

"That depends. Will Mrs. Merriweather still be inside?" she asked with feign solemnity, but his laughter coaxed out hers.

"Okay, well, seeing as my expertise is quite limited, and the cabinets are just full of booze and cereal missing constantans, what if I _buy_ you breakfast instead? Equal forgiveness points?" Nathan cocked his eyebrow playfully at her.

_"One of these days, Mr. Scott is going to realize that he can't buy his way out of everything!" Brooke muttered in exasperation, while eying the dainty charms that hung from her best friend's thin wrist. _

_"Yeah? What day will that be?" Peyton laughed, her arm twitching slightly. The light glinted off the silver, and she let out a happy sigh. She didn't tell Brooke yet that the new accessories weren't acquired as a guilt gift, or a forgiveness plea. Nathan Scott had actually gone a record amount of time without fucking up. He was even buying "just because" presents for his girlfriend of a few months. Major brownie points there. _

_"The day he's poor," Brooke quipped, shooting her friend a dazzling smile. "You really lucked out in that department, P. Sawyer."_

_"Because my boyfriend is rich?" her brow furrowed slightly, and she felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Was her best friend implying that she was shallow? She couldn't possibly be saying she was only with Nathan for his money…_

_"And talented… and hot… and considerate… and crazy about you… and has damn good taste in jewelry. But he's even luckier. He's got a girlfriend as amazing as you," the brunette beamed genuinely, and Peyton found herself mimicking the action. Her best friend could be blunt or flippant at times, but she really came through on occasion. It always took her by surprise with how sweet Brooke could be with the people she cared about. _

_"He is pretty lucky," Peyton let out a small smile, trying to suppress her laughter. She failed, however, when Brooke burst out in giggles first._

_"Please. You know you two are meant to be together," an air of solemnity fell over the head cheerleader then, and the blonde knew that meant that she was absolutely certain of what she was saying. It freaked her out, just a little bit, but she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered when it was said._

_"That's a scary thought," she deadpanned, causing Brooke to whack her with the nearest pillow. A full-on pillow fight ensued then, but the small smile stayed with her for a long time after—and it had nothing to do with pillows. _

The silent peace of the moment was interrupted by the front door crashing open. Groaning slightly, Peyton burrowed her head into Nathan's shoulder, whining incoherently. This would be the official "get the hell out of bed", and Nathan seemed to realize it too, shifting slightly below her and letting his eyes drift closed. It wasn't awkward for them to be so close, or even unusual. It was even peaceful, really, until a perky voice shattered the almost-silence.

"Nathan! Boy toy! Rise and shine! Luke and I are going to the café for breakfast, and you are so—in bed with Peyton!" Brooke bounced into the bedroom, stopping short in the doorway. For a second, it seemed they all had a flashback, because only God could count how many times the brunette had walked in on her best friend and Nathan post-coital. But that was a long, long time ago, and the shock registering in her bright green eyes was appropriately.

The excitement wasn't.

But Lucas was right behind her, lingering awkwardly in the doorway, a bizarre mixture of confusion and betrayal written in his light blue orbs. It vanished quickly, but it seemed to leave an eerie feeling lingering over them.

"This really isn't what it seems like," Peyton began to explain, more than a little uneasily, attempting to detangle herself from the basketball star. Their long limbs seemed to be impossibly twisted together, but fit comfortably.

"So you're not in bed with _the_ Nathan Scott?" Brooke asked, her eyes widened for emphasis. A happy little bounce was in her step, and her voice trilled slightly. It was the way she always was when she'd come across particularly juicy gossip. Peyton leveled her with a foreboding look, and she stopped her bouncing. Last time Peyton checked, Brooke had still harbored the "friend" feelings for Haley, whereas she had long abandoned hers. She had a sneaking suspicion that the trip Brooke and Lucas had taken a few days earlier had everything to do with her, and she was more than a little nervous as to how the shit would hit the fan when that came out.

"_The_ Nathan Scott?" she asked, with mild amusement. It seemed she'd forgotten that he was in the room at all.

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! We went over this! Good looking, arrogant, sexy, talented… sitting right next to you and having his ego inflated. Hi Nathan," Brooke smiled, more sheepishly now. It was unlike Brooke Davis to ever be appropriately embarrassed, but she knew when she'd stuck her designer-heels-clad foot in her mouth.

"Hey Brooke," he smirked at her, and Peyton rolled her eyes. Brooke batted her eyelashes teasingly, and Luke looked more than a little uncomfortable. Peyton noted with a wry smile that it was probably envy. God knows why, but both girls had fallen for the blonder Scott at one point, and now he got to observe as one flirted shamelessly with his brother as the other lay in his bed. Though the Triangle from Hell had dissolved long ago, things lingered, none of them making Luke eager to see the girls move on. Karma truly was a bitch.

"So, would you like to tell us what's going on here?" Lucas asked, more than a note of accusation in his voice as his ice blue eyes glanced back and forth between them. "Or should we make our own assumptions?"

"We could do the second," Brooke wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "And you could call me later with details, P. Sawyer!"

"Actually, we were just going to breakfast. So now we can all go together," Peyton smoothed over the tension, rising from the bed and running her fingers through her hair. She looked towards the closet instinctively for a change of clothes, but found nothing but basketball shorts and large jerseys. Walking determinedly over to his dresser, she grabbed a polo at least three sizes too big for her and marched towards the bathroom.

"Sure Peyton, you can borrow that!" Nathan called after her, trying to sound annoyed but coming off as amused. She disappeared into the small bathroom, freshening up and reemerging in his shirt and her jeans. It actually looked really cute, she mused to herself. When she returned, a far different atmosphere greeted her. Tension crackled between the brothers, electric and terrifying, and Brooke's eyes darted between them, scowling slightly at Lucas.

"What's going on?" she inquired.

"Nothing, let's go," Nathan grabbed her hand, brushing past her and tugging her along after him. Apparently he'd changed while she was in the bathroom, and in full view of his guests. Oh well, Nathan Scott was never a shy one.

Especially because he had nothing to be shy about.

Brooke bounced along beside them, chatting happily. Luke lagged behind slightly, even broodier than usual. His glare was overly intense, and his typical "weight of the world" sagging of the shoulders seemed more prominent. Something seemed to weigh horribly on his mind, and as Peyton opened her mouth to ask exactly what it was, she realized what he was staring at.

Hers and Nathan's still joined hands.

* * *

_Hey everybody. Sorry about any errors that appear here, but I didn't have time to reread, I really wanted to get this up tonight. **Please** review and let me know what you thought._

x Sam

_P.S.: I just posted up a one-shot that anybody who likes this story will probably like. So please check out **Failure's Always Sounded Better**, drop me a review, and let me know what you thought of it. _


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